


His One And Only Reward

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Low and High Chaos Applicable, M/M, Post-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: The rule of Delilah is over, and all Corvo Attano wants is for peace to be restored. And if peace begins with the softness of pillows and a visiting deity, he is quite content with it.“Is this what you want then, Corvo? The reward you are seeking, after all?”





	His One And Only Reward

**Author's Note:**

> I have just finished playing Dishonored 2 for the first time and I'm going through an emotional roller-coaster. This is a sweet stress relief fic because I can't help but fall in love with these two harder and harder.
> 
> This is not how I wanted to begin my fanfiction adventures with this fandom, but I think it's not too bad a start either.
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr! I also love getting prompts in my ask :)](a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com)

Wild garden that has sprung in the Dunwall Tower glares at Corvo with its sharp wild silhouettes from behind the door. There will be time to clear it up, restore the beauty of the imperial residence. But now, they rest.

Emily sleeps, drunken with sleeping potions and health elixirs. Corvo has spent a great many hours by her bedside, soothing and calming her into sleep with promises of explanations and reassuring. Even as her mind drifted and her face softened, giving up to the sleep, he remained at her side for the longest time until his body begged for rest too.

And now he is back in his room. He sits upon his bed for hours, listening to the quiet ticking of the clock on the bed table. It’s soothing, a one single constant that never changes. He wants to rest, but sleep won’t come to his mind as he tries to hang onto the last threads of his sanity.

The things he has seen today can barely compare to anything he has  _ ever _ seen. The madness of the witch, the terror of Delilah, fighting all of her beings at once. He wonders if his old heart can manage and decides that it’s too early to write it off as old. He may have been through hell and back, but it has only toughened him. His heart pounds.

Heart. Pain tugs at it just as much as guilt as Corvo squeezes his palm, trying to remember how Jessamine’s heart felt in his hold. Her voice hovers somewhere in the back of his mind as he tries to listen into it. But it’s gone, has been gone for so long, and though love blossoms as a single flower around his own madly beating heart, he knows it’s a flower that doesn’t bind him anymore. As if to support this thought, Corvo flexes his palm and watches the Outsider’s mark burn bright gold in the shadow against his bed.

“So it is done.”

He turns abruptly to find the Outsider standing at the foot of his bed, arms folded and head cocked. His face is painted with just a touch of curiosity, black eyes odd and flickering in the light of bright fireplace flames. Corvo looks away from him and lets out a sigh.

“What must you feel after all these weeks, fighting your way up Karnaca and back to Dunwall, much like you did as a young man. What is your gift this time? What is your reward?”

Corvo smirks.

“Peace.”

When he looks at the Outsider, he sees a smile. A content smile, he must have heard an answer he expected. Corvo thinks it should bore him, the predictability, but it seems to work the opposite way. The Outsider lets his arms fall from being crossed.

“Peace has always marked you among other men. You wear it like a crown of pride and glory, aspiring to hold the balance of power and control. Where others seek to exploit, you are determined to preserve. I can never fathom you out, dear Corvo.”

Corvo laughs lightly and suddenly heaviness of exhaustion engulfs him. He leans back and crosses arms under his head, where pillow accept him. He watches the Outsider who is all but a black silhouette against the warm blaze of the fireplace. Words fail him.

“It is only when peace is restored that I can rest. When my daughter doesn’t have to suffer from the conspiracies and death threats. Peace is a hard work and I have accepted that I shall be the one to hold this burden.”

His eyes almost close when he feels it. The way the bed creaks under additional weight and the movement of an arm, and then the touch.

He looks up.

“You have always been admirable. But now you have reached the greatness men dream of. Perhaps, you do deserve some rest in the very peace you are so determined to protect.”

Corvo watches the Outsider’s mouth move, corners pulling in a soft smile. His hand is brushing Corvo’s tangled greasy hair, moves away the long locks and casually brushes the tips of careful fingers against Corvo’s rough skin and unshaven cheek. There is reverence in the touch, matched to the rapture on the Outsider’s shadowed face.

He is not sure what drives him to do this, but in just a split moment he pushes forward and lets himself fall in the Outsider’s embrace. He is a tired old man, he thinks, he earned some rest. Too hard to stop the tears of relief from falling as he rakes the Outsider’s back with his large hands and hides his face in the god’s accepting shoulder. Leather jacket is rough against his skin and he moves a little, to the spot where fabric is pulled away and reveals the Outsider’s skin. It’s so human, that Corvo has to pull back for a moment, face wet with crying.

The Outsider’s eyes is a palette of emotions. Arched eyebrows and a badly hidden delight in the blackness of void-deep eyes. His mouth is twisted in an odd smile.

“Is this what you want then, Corvo? The reward you are seeking, after all?”

The Outsider’s voice is dripping with a sneer, but Corvo won’t let it fool him. The god’s face says so much more than his tone.

Yes, he thinks. He wants to have this, whatever it is. Scared to name the fluttering feeling in his chest and the tingling in his stomach as if he is about to rise flying. Easier to concentrate on the earthly feelings, physical and understandable unlike the dark passages of his mind and heart.

He pushes forward boldly, arms wrapping quickly around the Outsider’s shoulders, one hand up in his short hair. He holds his prey close in an affectionate embrace and then takes what is offered.

The Outsider’s lips taste of many things. But what makes Corvo sigh into his mouth with relief is how human he feels. The accepting lips that Corvo savours and hopes to worry some more. The touch of saliva that wets Corvo’s own lips so delightfully. He thinks the Outsider should have been a tang of salt and ocean, but he is sweet like old Tyvian wine.

The Outsider’s arms tense around Corvo now too, as if he has been longing for this kiss just as much as Corvo. He wants it gentle, Corvo feels the soft slow movement of his lips and tries to slow down himself in return. Butterflies burst in a dance in his stomach when the Outsider’s tongue licks at Corvo’s lips. He would have the kiss last gentle as long as possible, but who he is to deny the god’s wish to explore his mouth.

And he opens up, perhaps too eagerly. With strength he pulls the Outsider closer, up into his lap. 

The kiss is worse than a sleeping dart. Corvo melts and warms in it, wallows and drowns. His body, tortured by pain, guilt and fights gives up to the Outsider, and so does his tired mind. He is drowsy and light, and energy, seeping out of his limbs, lets him fall back with the Outsider in his hold.

It is then that the god pulls away, confounded face hovering inches away from Corvo. The blackness of the void shimmers and mixes with the shadows of the room, created by the intriguing game of fireplace light.

“You are a delightful sight, my dear Corvo, and a delightful mystery even more so.”

He smiles. Corvo tilts his head and tightens the hold on the Outsider’s back, their chests pressed together tight and warm. Black leather rubs against soft worn-down fabric of a coat.

“What if you will tire of me when I run out of ideas such as this? What if I become boring?”

The Outsider presses lips to Corvo’s mouth corner and he all but melts into the touch.

“It is no bother. I have a feeling I shall not tire for a very long time.”

Corvo thinks he believes him and as the Outsider finishes the last word, Corvo captures his lips again.


End file.
